Real Monsters
by Allonsie
Summary: What would happen if someone from the real world ended up in the Pokemon universe? Combines elements from the first two generations, is very general about the time line. Includes a male OC and Ethan from the second gen. games.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note (Hopefully the only one): This is an attempt at a darker Pokemon fic. I don't know when it will be updated, where the story is really going, or how good it's going to turn out, but here it is. Have fun, kids.

Oh, and I feel the need to apologize in advance for giving Ethan a voice. It seems wrong of me to do so (him being the silent protagonist most of the time), but if he couldn't talk, much of the story would be too hard to move along. Thanks for understanding.

* * *

The world slid in and out of focus, the land blurring together and running into the sky like watercolors. Something soft and grainy lay beneath him; sand, he thought, even through his blurred consciousness. A bird cried somewhere overhead, cutting through the buzzing that was all he could hear just a moment ago. Now he could hear the dull roar of the ocean before him, and the splash of water against rocks somewhere nearby. He became aware of waves tumbling across him, soaking him from the waist down before retreating, sucking at his legs with little white hands. He would have been content to lay there, allowing the rhythm of the sea to put him to sleep. That is, until he realized that with each wave, the ocean was attempting to drag him back out, inch by inch.

Lorin sat up, causing the world to lurch and melt together again. He shut his eyes and sat there for several moments, allowing it to right itself.

When he was absolutely sure he was not about to pass out, Lorin opened his eyes again. He dragged himself backwards until he was out of the ocean's reach. His shirt was dry, and stiff from salt, and reached up to feel his head for any bumps or bruises, sand rained down on his shoulders. He needed to figure out where he was. Not trusting himself to stand up just yet, he surveyed his surroundings from where he was sitting.

What had happened? He asked himself as he scanned the empty strip of beach. He remembered being sent home from his grandfather's on a ferry, from the mainland to the island. It was a long ride, but he'd taken it many times before. This time . . . Something had gone wrong. The entire ship had lurched, throwing everyone to the ground, and the next thing he knew he was struggling for air in the icy black water. Then he had ended up here.

It was a narrow strip of white sand, trapped between the sea and a black rocky shelf. It could have only been six feet high at the lowest points, but that was enough to keep Lorin where he was for the moment. To his delight, as he moved to stand up, the world remained where it was. With his hand against the black shelf for support, he took a few wary steps. Soon he was making his way up the beach in the first direction he had pointed himself. It wasn't long until he saw a way up and off of it.

It was a simple wooden ramp that looked like it had been installed to allow cars to pass from one level to the next. He decided it would suit his purpose just fine. Skirting the rather ominous looking space beneath the ramp, he made his way up it and to the road above. Just as he reached the edge, he saw an enormous pimply pincer slip between the boards. It stood out a dull orange against the brown, and fortunately he saw it in time to jump right over it.

_They've got coconut crabs here, _He thought. _The more distance between me and there the better. _

He was obviously far off the beaten track, which he deduced after the road began to diminish from hard-packed dirt to rutted, dried mud as he walked. Soon, he was pushing his way through densely-packed shrubs, creepers and low-hanging tree branches. By the time he stumbled out into a clearing, his hair was tangled with bits of twig, his arms were covered in scratches, and trailing bits of vine clung to the cuffs of his pants.

The clearing was surrounded by muted darkness. The trees grew so close together on both sides, that he couldn't see much more than a few feet in any direction. Above him, the canopy of leaves formed a mat so thick, that only the faintest amount of light could filter down. Even though he knew it had been late afternoon only moments ago, Lorin found himself in a perpetual twilight. The grass where he stood had been worn down by endless footsteps until it was little more than a small dusting of shoots that grew up the closer to the trees the path became. The path itself stretched off in two directions, and a wooden sign stood just off to the side. Lorin squinted at the black letters in the semi-darkness, and made out the words, "Route 29."

Well, wasn't that just a boatload of help.

Something struck Lorin as he sat down against the nearest tree to plan his next move. His parents would be wondering what happened. From what he could remember, the boat he had been on was a goner. Had they noticed he hadn't come home and called his grandfather? Had he told them he'd seen him off, only to see the news flash up on the TV? Did they think he was dead? He could at least let them know he was alive, even if he _was_ hopelessly lost.

Lorin felt in his pocket and retrieved his cellphone. Thankfully, it hadn't been lost in the chaos after the boat went under. Unfortunately, flipping it open was accompanied with a small cascade of saltwater as it evacuated the circuitry. Not really expecting much, Lorin fiddled with the buttons for a moment. Sure enough, the phone was dead as a , he stood and flung the useless thing up into the air in frustration.

He was about to take one of the directions down the path, when something above his head let out a squeak. His phone had connected with something, which promptly fell out of the tree above him and onto his head. Surprised, he batted it away, feeling something soft and bristly as he did so. What he saw took him a moment to register.

At first, it looked like an extremely fat snake. It was about a foot long, bright green with an off-white underbelly and bright yellow rings on its sides. On closer inspection, he saw that the body was segmented, and a it boasted a set of antenna that were a bright, bubblegum pink. He was face to face with a gigantic, green and pink caterpillar.

It only took him a moment after he realized what he was looking at to bolt away down the path. He would like to think that he wasn't shouting or screaming, but he later deduced this was why he found the next little monstrosity.

He'd raced through the forest, following the path of least resistance until he came to a thicket of waist-high grass. He struggled through this, only to stumble and fall to his knees on the other side. He sat up and drew his knees to his chest, breathing hard. Before he could fully grasp the absurdity of what he had just seen, something caught his eye overhead.

At first glance, it was just a normal bird. About the size of a pigeon, brown and white, and flapping about harmlessly above his head. It was staring at him, though. It hopped from branch to branch fitfully, always keeping one eye on Lorin from where it sat. He stared right back, now afraid to look away. They sat that way for some time, in some absurd, paranoid staring contest. Then Lorin made a mistake. He made a move to stand up.

With a savage cry that cut through the silence, the bird launched itself into the air. It bore down on Lorin's unprotected head, talons tearing at his hair and scalp. He swung his arms up blindly to defend himself, feeling his hands connect with the feathered body more than once as he tried pathetically to fend the creature off. Seeing he was fighting a loosing battle, Lorin took off down the path again.

It was a while before the bird pulled away and let him be. It probably decided he wasn't worth the effort once he grabbed up a fallen branch. Heart pounding in his chest, breath burning through his lungs and fresh cuts oozing blood from his arms, Lorin sat heavily at the base of the nearest tree. He was shaking, partially from shock and terror and some from his most recent sprinting session. What was he going to do?

No doubt there were more of those . . . Things out there. Countless more, he thought, quickly scanning the trees. How in the hell was he going to get away from all of them? How was he going to get home? How was he going to survive long enough to do that? There was the small chance that anything dangerous was the size of that bird, or smaller, but knowing his luck, there would be far bigger things to worry about sooner than later. His mind suddenly jumped to the crab he had almost had a bad encounter with down on the beach, and had to suppress a small whimper of terror.

As he lowered his head into his hands for some much needed panic time, he heard a voice.

"Hey you!"

He looked up, barely believing that there could be another sane human here with him.

It was a young boy, only in his early teens at most. He wore a red shirt, matching baseball cap and a large heavy backpack. "You're a trainer, right?"

"What?" Lorin found his voice cracking slightly, and did his best to hide it.

"No one would be stupid enough to wander around in the forest unless they were a trainer. Lets battle!"

"B-battle?" Lorin managed to squeak. So much for sane.


	2. Chapter 2  Making new friends

"Battle?" Lorin said again. This time he managed to stop his voice from cracking.

The boy in front of him had taken up a wide stance as if he expected Lorin to charge him. He reached for something on his belt before tossing it up into the air and shouting, "Go!" at the top of his lungs. If that was meant as an order for Lorin, he was more than happy to oblige. Unfortunately, he didn't turn out to be so lucky.

Something materialized in front of the boy, only a few feet away from Lorin. It was the size of a small dog, with a navy colored back and cream underbelly. Fire danced in ridges along its collar and backside. It seemed to take no notice of this, and stood, growling at Lorin.

"Sweet jumping Christmas crackers! What the hell is that?"

The boy seemed unphased, talking right over the top of his little flaming dachshund. "It's my Quilava. Haven't you seen one- Wait," He stopped and gave Lorin the strangest look either of them had ever seen. "What did you just say?"

"I said what the hell is that thing!" Lorin had scrambled to his feet. He now stood with his back pressed against a tree, refusing to take his eyes off the monster in front of him.

"No, before that." The boy was still regarding him as if his skin was bright purple.

"You didn't answer my question." Lorin felt himself groping for another stick. If he had to beat that thing back he was going to be ready for it.

"Yes I did. I said it's my Quilava," The boy raised an eyebrow. "Have you never seen one before?"

"No I flipping haven't!"

"Oh," The boy sounded surprisingly disappointed. He sighed and hung his head. "I guess you're not a trainer, then?"

"A trainer of _what, _exactly?" The Quilava had sat down, and was now watching Lorin with a curious tilt of the head. He didn't think it had blinked once since it had first appeared.

"Where are you from?" The boy had screwed up his face, squinting across the gap at Lorin. He sounded utterly confused.

"You didn't answer me."

"Of... Pokémon. Duh."

It was Lorin's turn to be confused, it seemed. The boy had answered him as if it should have been painfully he looked at the Quilava, "Pokémon" definitely wasn't the first word that came to mind.

"Pokémon," He repeated, trying the word out for himself.

"Yeah," The boy pointed to his pet. "Duh."

"Alright then...," Lorin nodded slowly and took a cautious step forward. The Quilava perked up, little black ears swiveling in his direction. He froze. "It's not about to attack me, is it?"

"Quiliava?" The boy sounded almost offended, and looked at Lorin like he was insane. "No. Of course not!"

"Kay..." Even so, Lorin skirted the creature until he moved closer to the boy.

A hand was stuck in his face. "My name's Ethan." The boy said. He was smiling, but it seemed like an oddly forced expression. He seemed to be sizing Lorin up. Or maybe trying to measure his sanity.

His hand was tense and cold as Lorin shook it. "You got a last name?" He asked.

"You got a first?"

"Lorin," He felt the hint of a smile tug at the edge of his own mouth. It disappeared a moment later, drowned out as he tried to stifle a cry of surprise as the Quilava tried to force itself between the two boys. Lorin skipped back a few feet without realizing what his feet were doing. Despite Ethan's reassurance, he wasn't quite ready to trust something that didn't realize it was on fire.

"Where you from?" Ethan asked. He crouched down to scratch the Pokémon's head.

"Not here."

This earned a laugh from Ethan. "Obviously." He said, grinning.

"What about you?" Lorin was still standing a good distance away, but he crouched down to meet Ethan's level. He started as the Quilava turned to look at him, but tried his best to ignore it.

"New Bark Town. It's not that far from here." He smiled absently to himself. "I came back for a visit. To let my mom know how I'm doing, you know?"

"You traveling then?" Tentatively, Lorin held out a hand to the Quilava. It eyed him, sniffed the air and started to creep towards him. He did have to admit; it was kind of cute once he got over the original shock. And the fire.

"Yep," Ethan was still grinning. "I think he likes you."

Lorin nodded nervously as the Quilava nuzzled his hand. "You're not traveling by yourself, are you?" That didn't seem right. Ethan, no matter how he looked at him, couldn't have been more than thirteen.

"Of course not," Ethan sat down in the grass. His hand slipped to his belt, where he felt several small plastic balls hooked onto it. "I've got my Pokémon."

Lorin's hand slipped and the Quilava flicked its head irritably. Glaring at him, it retreated back to Ethan. "You've got more of those things?"

"Yeah. Tons." Ethan's voice took on a high, dreamy note, and his eyes seemed to go out of focus for a moment.

"Where are they?" Lorin asked, eyes sweeping the clearing.

"Oh, I don't have them all with me." Ethan laughed at Lorin as if he was crazy. "Only six."

"Well... Where are they, then?" Lorin was starting to think he wasn't about to get a straight answer out of the boy unless he took him by the shoulders and shook him. If was going to get caught off-guard by another new monstrosity, this one was going to get kicked in the face without warning.

"Right here," Ethan slid one of the plastic balls from his belt and held it out. The top half was a bright cherry red, separated from the white bottom by a white ring all the way around. He pressed a small button near the center. The ball began to expand at an alarming rate, until Ethan was left holding something about the size of an apple.

"How small are they?" Lorin asked, eying the ball in confusion.

Again, Ethan laughed. "You're a funny guy." Was all he said. "All right, Quilava. I think you should go back now." He pressed the button again. Almost instantly, the Pokémon was sucked up into the device, and it shrank back to its original size. Lorin felt his jaw drop.

"How did you do that?"

"Huh?" Ethan looked up, confused. "I just put him back."

"Yeah, but how?" Lorin shook his head. "How did that work? You just-" His hands flapped uselessly at the air in front of him. He tried desperately to convey the impossibility of what he'd just seen, but only ended up mouthing at thin air.

"I put him back in the Pokéball." Ethan said again, as if repeating himself would help.

"But how!" Lorin stuttered. "Thats... Did you teleport it? Thats like... Magic!"

"No..." Ethan looked around, as if trying to draw support from the trees. "I'm pretty sure that's science."

Again, Lorin's mouth fell open. With a short, exasperated sigh, he fell backwards into the grass. "Nothing here makes sense," He said, covering his face. "I really want to go home."

"Here," There were footsteps beside him, and Ethan was pulling Lorin to his feet. "I'll take you into town. We'll see if we can find you a map. I'll fill you in on a couple things on the way there."


End file.
